


Compulsion

by LorelyLantana



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Angst, F/M, Oneshot, Sad, Slight zelink, parenting mishaps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:47:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27890032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LorelyLantana/pseuds/LorelyLantana
Summary: Link's father disapproves of one of his son's decisions and places on probation as his Captain in response. Little did he know that this would be the last conversation he would have with his son before Link returns with the Master Sword
Relationships: Link & Link's Father (Legend of Zelda), Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 183





	Compulsion

**Author's Note:**

> Alright everyone who's ready to cry.  
> This oneshot was inspired by an artwork posted by @snooze-zzz, url below.  
> https://snooze-zzz.tumblr.com/post/628995821899218944/knight-of-the-hyrule

His father wasn’t happy when Link was called to his office, a scowl etched into his brow. Link stepped in and stood at attention, expecting his father to grumble about some last minute change to the guard’s rotation before assigning him to a troop to fill in the gaps left by such shifts. Link had been knighted only recently, and as the most junior member in his unit he was expected to pick up this sort of slack. Link didn’t mind, a little sleep lost was a small place to pay to quiet that writhing feeling in his chest. It wasn’t silent just yet, but he was getting closer. When his father got up to walk around the room, Link made no move to maintain eye contact, standing at attention. It was a test of sorts, teaching Link to hold his position until told otherwise. It took some practice to tamp down the instinctive urge to turn towards the speaker, but he was getting it. So when his father walked behind him, he thought he was just checking his form.

“Do you think this is a game, son?” the Captain’s words were cold, dripping with the kind of disappointment that would make any child’s blood freeze. Link’s pulse began to race. His face flushed, but his training held and he stood rooted to the spot.

“Sir?”

“Do you know how many fourteen year old knights there have been in recorded history?”

“One, sir,” Link answered, bracing for a lecture.

“Right, one. You are the only knight to ever be sworn in so young,” his father continued, coming around to face him again. Link almost flinched when he saw the quiet rage in his father’s eyes. This wasn’t going to be the ordinary scolding for being late to the mess hall or having a spot on his armor.

“I had to jump through a lot of hoops for you to be allowed to swear in early. I stuck my head out for you because I had faith in you. You told me you could handle the responsibility and I believed you. I don’t appreciate you dragging my name through the mud with this little stunt and I definitely don’t appreciate you going back on your word.”

Link racked his brain, still completely at a loss to the ‘stunt’ the Captain was referring to. He’d looked after his armor meticulously, arrived early for morning drills, he even took time out of his break to have a barber crop his hair to match Hyrule’s military regulation, leaving his neck uncovered for the first time in years.

Then again, he did break one of the sparring dummies yesterday, a swing of a sword that landed a bit too hard. The drill sergeant laid into him for that, sending him to run laps while everyone else got a water break.

“I can fix the dummy, sir.”

That was the wrong thing to say apparently, because when his father’s face contorted even further. The Captain shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You knew perfectly well that tattoos visible in uniform aren’t allowed, let alone one blatantly disrespecting the royal family, so what possessed you to undermine the sacrifices made to get you here?”

Link’s hands were shaking behind his back. He couldn’t remember the last time his father was so angry with him, and he still had no idea what he was being reprimanded for. He didn’t get a tattoo as far as he remembered, and he didn’t drink, so it wasn’t a memory lost to wine. 

Justified or not, the Captain’s anger stung after Link tried so hard to uphold the high standard his father held him to. He had been proud to meet that standard, but it was hard to hold his head high when his captain and his father looked at him with such disappointment, whatever the reason turned out to be. He felt his face heat with shame and his throat close. 

The Captain sighed when his son failed to answer, and Link knew that he had fallen in his father’s eyes, and that thought alone was enough to bring tears to his eyes. 

“I don’t understand,” he whispered, his knight’s countenance cracking at long last, “What did I do?”

His father shook his head, refusing to look him in the eye, “If you can’t be honest and own up to your own actions, then I have to put you on probation. Pack your backs and come back when you’re ready to stop treating the knight’s oath like a joke.”

Link saluted, maintaining his silence in a desperate attempt to regain his composure, though he couldn’t stop a few childish tears from leaking out in what would be his last show of emotion for a very long time.

The sun was setting as Link started down the road south to Castle Town where he’d stay the night, wondering what he’d tell his mom. His stomach twisted in dread. He didn’t want to see the inevitable disappointment on his mother’s face. He still didn’t know what he’d done wrong, but whatever it was had to be so obvious that any denial would read as insubordination, so he doubted she would believe any defense he could muster.

He wanted to scream that he didn’t think knighthood was a joke. In truth he wouldn’t even consider it an ambition. He supposed it was an instinct, if anything. Perhaps it was because he was the son of the Captain of the Royal Guard, but that answer tasted wrong in his mind, like it was far too trivial an explanation for the growling dissatisfaction in his chest. 

He’d always had fun swinging the wooden swords his father brought home when he was small, but time and again Link would be overtaken by some deep set sense of urgency to learn and hone any skill he could use in battle. He would be seated at the dinner table or doing his chores when something that tasted like an elegant, tempered version of panic would consume him and demand he rush outside to practice his sword forms. His mother scolded him for it at first, but couldn’t bring herself to reprimand him after she saw how distraught he would be if she stopped him, so she left him be, only calling him in if it was bedtime or if he scraped a knee. If he couldn’t find a sword, he’d pick up a broom and pretend it was a spear, or he’d make a claymore out of an iron hammer. He’d go hunting even though he’d have to drag a buck along on the ground because he was too small to carry it himself because standard targets simply wouldn’t cut it. Anything he could use to practice he would.

At first it was just repeating basic swings and perfecting technique, but after a few years passed there chime began to sound in the distance when he took up his arms, and soon after that ring grew into words reverberating in his head. At first, Link had thought the voice, ancient and vaguely feminine, was that of the Goddess. He didn’t think that now though. She, if the voice was, in fact, a she, felt isolated, personal. Link had the distinct impression that the voice was interested in him and him alone, and he didn’t think the White Goddess Hylia would play favorites, least of all with him. There was no praise or scorn from the voice, only instruction flavored with an odd sort of affection that felt older and steadier than the land itself, and Link, still driven by a baseless devotion, did as he was told. 

When she told him to hone his agility by shadow sparring on a fence, he obeyed. When she told him to climb Mount Floria to strengthen his body and spirit he obeyed. And when he was told to visit the Spring of Courage to pay homage to his predecessors he obeyed, whoever they may be. Then old and forgotten combat arts were whispered in his ear, and Link began to fight unlike any man or beast in thousands of years. 

It wasn’t long after that his father returned to Hateno on leave and took note of his progress. The Captain made a blithe comment that Link could hold his own against a royal guard, and once again the urgency rose, not to take up arms, but to head towards Hyrule Castle. He’d begged and pleaded with his father, swearing up and down that he would uphold the knight’s standard both in and out of combat, the voice reassuring him all the while.

When he was sworn to Hyrule’s service and he settled into the Military Training Camp the voice quieted down. He felt a tad lonesome without her, though he didn’t miss the mind numbing sensation so close to terror that always preceded her voice. It had been relaxing to train and talk and go about his life without a sense of foreboding shadowing his every action. He was where he needed to be.

As he walked further and further south he could feel it growing again, pulling him back the way he came. Link thought back to his childhood, wondering when this feeling, so much like a sickness, first came to him. Now that he thought on it, he was quite certain the first taste of this compulsion came to him at the late Queen’s funeral. 

Yes, he remembered it clear as day. He had been outside the cathedral in Castle Town bearing lilies on his family’s behalf, since his father was guarding the ceremony and his mother had taken ill that day. Once the priestesses had concluded their rite there was a bid for all those in attendance to leave their offerings if they so wished, and when it was Link’s turn to approach the coffin he caught sight of Princess Zelda.

She was so small, smaller than he was, and though no tears fell Link saw her quivering ever so slightly. The sight of her green eyes and sun bright hair was so familiar even though he’d never seen anything like it. She looked up to meet his gaze, and within her green eyes Link found a fleeting epiphany tinged with nostalgia. In that moment Link could feel something deep within the earth beginning to rumble awake, dark and devastating. He’s certain that’s where his fixation began, and after years of contemplation he deemed the swell in his chest at the sight of her protective, though the nature of such devotion was lost on him. 

Link had come up on Hyrule Cathedral then. He stood there a moment, wondering if he should seek Hylia’s guidance before heading on his way. Who knows, perhaps the voice would return to him and give him an objective to work towards, something to drown out the devastation in his chest.

“You are not to leave that spot until dawn breaks, Zelda. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Father.”

And there she was again, all snow white and burning gold in the light of the setting sun. He could see her glowing faintly in the firelight of the torches around her, kneeling in the middle of the Cathedral’s garden to pray. Possessed, he stepped closer to the wrought iron fence that separated them, drawn to her like a moth to any warm, bright light.

It had been years since he’d seen her shaking at the loss of her mother, but she somehow looked more hopeless and alone kneeling there in the grass. That observation tore at him, momentarily eclipsing his own desolation. In that instance Link wanted to be there by her side, if only to provide a moment’s reprieve from the storm they were trapped in.

His wish struck through him light a flash of lightning as though granted by a higher power.

Link spun around on the street and walked right back to the gate, retracing his steps, though he had no intention of returning to the Military Camp. He didn’t know where he intended to go, only that there was a white hot tether curled around his heart and soul dragging him back north, relentless and daunting. 

He walked on into the night, after the people of Hyrule settled in to sleep and doused the fires lighting his way. The darkness mattered little, because whatever drove Link’s feet, it wasn’t his sight. He walked past the Camp he’d left not hours before, keeping out of the nightwatch’s range. He didn’t know what he was doing, but he didn’t need interruptions, and the guard would just get in his way. No one entered the Lost Woods without a death wish, at least, not before tonight. The fog of the ancient forest was potent, laced with an old magic, but it parted for Link, yielding to a more powerful, primordial force. It was a familiar feeling, Link realized as he passed between two seas of swirling white. He could hear her chime as she led him into the warmth of the Korok Forest. He didn’t hesitate to walk up to the sword where it lay in stone. The massive tree before him began to shift, but Link paid it no mind as he took hold on the blade and pulled. 

The blade came free effortlessly, but Link tumbled back, overtaken by visions of death and destruction and ruin.

He’d heard whispers of a fabled apocalypse brewing beneath the land, but Link hadn’t listened too closely. They were only rumors, inconsequential when compared to the mind consuming drive to become a better warrior. Link had trained himself for years, mastering every weapon he could find, all in preparation to wield this sacred blade of evil’s bane.

But it wasn’t enough. It was nowhere  _ near _ being enough to stop the horrors the voice in his blade spoke to him of. 

Link didn’t return home after that. He couldn’t, because he knew that if he faced his father and mother just once he would break down, and that wasn’t an option anymore. He needed every hour he could get, and with the Calamity looming over the horizon he couldn’t justify something so selfish. He had to protect the Princess, he had to protect all of Hyrule, and weak as he was now he didn’t stand a chance. With the blessing of the Great Deku Tree he remained in Korok Forest, learning skill after skill. He trained dawn till dusk, sleeping in the Deku Tree’s hollow and cooking meals from the mushrooms and herbs the Koroks gathered for him. 

He appreciated the little forest spirits, their antics helped cheer him when the weight of it all began to crush him.They were helpful in small but essential ways. They mended and refreshed his clothes, told him their stories and sang their songs, and when his hair grew long they found him a band to tie it with. He asked them to send messages to his family that he was still alive even though he had no idea if they were successful. They would listen to the whispers of Hyrule and tell him which monsters were causing the most trouble so Link could gain some real battle experience. Hestu helped him pack enough provisions to make a pilgrimage to Thyphlo ruins, where he stayed day and night until he had mastered fighting blind, and then he returned to the Korok Forest to fine tune his skills until his seventeenth birthday.

He could slow time, and move faster than an arrow in flight, but he still wasn’t satisfied when the Great Deku Tree spoke, his voice painfully similar to his father’s.

“You must leave now, Hero, go and face your destiny.”

Link didn’t look up from his swings, the sword humming in his hand, “I’m not ready.”

“No one ever is, child,” the tree said, sadness and affection melting into one another, “you must go nonetheless. The princess needs you to be her strength. The land of Hyrule calls for your aid. You must answer their call”

The sword whispered in agreement, so he sheathed the blade and said his goodbyes to the forest children before emerging from the fog for the first time in months. He stopped to look at the Military Training Camp, wondering if he should visit his father. He thought better of it, continuing on his way. Even if they allowed a deserter within the barracks, Link didn’t think he could hold himself together in the face of the family he had left behind.

Link’s father stood at attention behind King Rhoam’s throne. He was Captain of the King’s Guard, which meant he had to watch over the weekly constituency. The King sat on a throne while the Princess occupied a plush, though less ornate, chair placed to the right of her mother’s vacant seat. He’d received the promotion a year after his son went missing and he accepted, since he no longer had a reason to stay at the Military Training Camp.

It took him three months to realize his son had disappeared.

When his wife asked after their Link’s whereabouts upon his return to Hateno on leave the Captain had been annoyed, at first. It was easier to believe that his son was simply acting out, surely to return once he’d felt he made his point, then to face the truth. That flimsy belief didn’t hold out for very long, because deep in his heart he knew better. Link had made a mistake perhaps, but he’d never run from the consequences of his own actions. The tears of his distraught wife hammered home the heartbreaking reality. 

Whatever had befallen his son, he wouldn’t be coming home.

There wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t regret how he’d sent his son off that final time. He should have told his son that he loved him, protocol be damned. 

There were countless reminders of his son that tore at him. Small things. The Captain would be on patrol and he’d see a doodle of a young man wielding a winged sword that the children of castle town must have scrawled on a wall. He opened a drawer to find a scrap of fabric from the tunic Link was wearing when he left the Training Camp, and he would return to his office to find honeyd apples and other treats his son loved the most. The universe seemed intent on haunting him, and he knew he deserved it. 

He was so proud of his boy, but his final act as a father was to push Link to tears.

A chill went down the Captain’s spine, and he snapped to attention, kicking himself for letting his mind wander when he was supposed to be protecting the most important people in the kingdom. His time as a soldier had tempered his instincts, and he could sense a quiet, oppressive strength that would make a Lynel cower spread throughout the room at the sound of light footsteps padding towards the center of the room. A quick glance around the room revealed that his subordinates felt the same, shifting from foot to foot and hand twitching towards their weapons.

“State your business, boy,” came the King’s command, loud but not enough to drown out the ferocity leaking out from the diminutive hylian standing in the center of the Sanctum, his feet planted on the royal family’s crest.

Link said not a word, only reaching over his shoulder to pull the Master Sword from its sheath. The guards moved to intercept him, but he drove the tip to the ground before they could come close. The Captain stepped forward, swallowing his fear while he drew his sword to face the intruder.

“Stop!”

The Princess’ voice rang out with an uncharacteristic authority, bypassing the King himself to halt the guards’ assault. The adrenaline seeped from the Captain’s blood, and he took a good look at the swordsman. 

He knew those eyes, their tearstained image had been burned into his memory for years. His son was taller now, though still on the shorter side. His hair was longer, much longer and swept back in a ponytail. The scrap of fabric the Captain had taken to wearing around his wrist was a perfect match for the tunic his son wore. The Captain’s sword clattered to the ground. Link was alive.

His son was alive!

But as he looked at the man his son had become, he felt some of that joy slip away. It was still there, but it was tainted by the realization of just how much Link had changed. Children grow, the Captain was well aware of this fact, but his son wasn’t just grown, he was distant and restrained. He stood less like a man and more like a statue carved to scare off malevolent spirits and sinners.

“Go to him, Zelda,” the King’s voice barely registered as the Captain struggled to reconcile this stoic, intimidating figure with the giggling, infectiously bright child he had raised.

Link hadn’t expected to run into his father so soon, his resolve was beginning to crack at the sight of the hesitant, regretful joy on the Captain’s face. He clenched his fist around the Master Sword’s handle, suppressing the urge to throw himself in his father’s arms and never leave. But then Princess Zelda stood before him in all her gentle radiance, fate given flesh, and he held onto her. Her presence banished any doubt within him. Link could feel her slumbering power, pulsing softly with the rise and fall of her breath. She felt like sunshine, and looking at her reminded him that  _ this _ is where he needed to be. She too had destiny woven into the very fabric of her soul, the only other one of his kind.

Link knelt on the stones before her, laying the magnificent blade he commanded at her feet.

“That’s it then,” the King said, and the Princess nodded.

“Yes, it’s the Sword that Seals the Darkness,” she said, voice shaking, “We’re running out of time.”

“Not necessarily,” Impa piped up, “the fortune teller stated that the wingcrest would appear on the Hero’s body when the time drew near, I see no such mark.”

The Captain made a choked, distressed sound, but no one paid him any mind. All focused on Link. His hand was indeed blank, but after a moment’s confusion the Hero lowered his head before his princess, brushing his hair to one side so she could see the back of his neck. Her fingers brushed across his skin, sending a warm shiver down his spine. Link found himself relaxing under her hand, the touch felt like sending water from a hot spring rushing down his back and soothing the restlessness writhing inside him.

“How long have you had this?” she whispered, her fingertips lingering on the crest. Link could feel them shake slightly and felt a surge of protectiveness course through him. 

“Two years, eight months and six days,” the Captain answered. 

The King turned to his Captain, nonplussed, “You know this young man?”

“He’s my son,” was his broken reply. King broke into a smile.

“Well what do you know? You must be very proud of your boy today!”

“I’ve always been proud of him, your Majesty,” the Captain replied, “Always.”

Link took a shuddering breath as he felt some of the guilt from the last three years melt away, but his face remained stoic.

“With such a son I imagine you’d have little choice in the matter,” the King laughed, deaf to the thick emotion in the other man’s voice. Link felt the Princess’ hand stiffen before she drew away, a chill replacing the gentle heat he was already starting to miss.

“Rise, Hero,” she commanded softly, and he obliged without a word, sheathing his sword and taking his place by her side, the disquiet that had clawed through him since childhood finally satisfied. The Captain followed the divine pair as they declared the constituency over and the arrival of the Hero of Hyrule was announced, hopelessly at a loss.

The night was quiet when Link was headed to his assigned quarters below the Princess’ tower, much like the evening he was called to draw the Master Sword. He had put his hand on the door’s handle when he heard steps approach.

The Captain approached his son with caution, consumed with hatred for his own cowardly hesitation. After years of grief, his son stood before him yet again, and here he was, trying to dredge up the courage to give his boy the apology he deserved. He didn’t know how to approach Link like this. He wasn’t his son anymore, it seemed, but the Hero of Hyrule, the answer to the prayers of thousands. Here stood the Knight who Seals the Darkness, the paragon all aspired to the second they took up a sword.

Looking at his son felt like looking over the edge of a cliff, but it was his eyes that concerned him most. The blue eyes passed down from his mother lacked the good nature and mirth once found there, a trait shared with her. Instead there was an emptiness, a great void between the Captain and the Hero far too wide to cross.

No. Now that he looked closer, it wasn’t a void, it was a wall, and that broke the Captain’s heart all the more. Deep down he knew that he couldn’t reach his son like this, but he owed it to his family to try.

“I’m sorry,”

He’s not sure what he expected, he still hadn’t heard his son’s voice, and drawing Link in for a hug felt like crossing some unspoken but no less potent boundary that legendary blade had cut around the Hero. The Hero of Hyrule nodded in acknowledgment of his words, and the Captain didn’t feel like pushing further would be fair on his son, so he nodded his goodnight and walked further down the path with a heavy heart to write a letter to his wife, not sure what exactly to tell her happened to their little boy.


End file.
